


A Coward's Mistress

by zkxxdlin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break-up/Make-up, Closeted Chanyeol, Drag Queen!Heechul, Homophobic family, M/M, Romance, Unbalanced Love, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zkxxdlin/pseuds/zkxxdlin
Summary: Baekhyun had always been called 'pretty'; and has long come to acknowledge and even accept it. Even though he was the receiving end of that word much more times than that of 'handsome', he had never once felt his masculinity to be compromised.For Baekhyun knew that he was still a man, that he still existed; masculine and breathing.... but as he only stared at the reflection, at this— this other person in the mirror—'She's pretty.''... She really is pretty.'... he can't help but think otherwise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a rather controversial story, and I am aware of that. This story is going to portray Baekhyun as crossdressing in order to "keep Chanyeol with him", and this might be rather uncomfortable for some people to read. I had quite a difficult time with this story myself, so I will not be surprised if you find it difficult to read too.
> 
> I will not say anymore (for if you are indeed going ahead to read this, I do not want to spoil anything for you), but a word of advice and caution: please do take the tags seriously, for I think they give you enough hints as to where this story is headed. If you do not like where you even so much as /think/ this story is going, please do not go any further.
> 
> Some actions done by either party here may not be what you agree with, and that is entirely understandable. Please note that I do not condone any negative actions; I am a firm believer of being honest and true to both your partner and to your family, in all and every aspect. So now that that's clear, let's get on with the story.

“...  _ Baekhyun…” _

The call of his name had been nothing more than a whisper, murmured through barely parted lips and carried in a tone so breathy, Baekhyun wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for the complete and utter silence of the room. The characteristically sweet voice, one that Baekhyun has long come to associate with support and cheer, was now  _ uncharacteristically _ muted and sullen; disappointed and somber.

_ Pitiful. _

… and Baekhyun hated it.

He absolutely, completely, and utterly  _ hated  _ it.

With his eyelids sliding down tight, Baekhyun only tilted his head back as his chest ballooned, lungs expanding and shoulders rising as he inhaled in a desperate attempt to soothe the flickering flames of irritation sparking right under his skin. Curling his arms even tighter in their crossed position across his chest, Baekhyun only shook his head slightly as he mumbled out a, “... I know what you are going to say, Noona, so  _ please, don’t.” _

However, all that Baekhyun had received in response to that was Taeyeon pushing herself off of her bed as she combed her fingers through her hair, her actions abrupt and telling of her disbelief at the situation. Shaking her  _ own _ head, Taeyeon quickly brought her hands back down to her sides as her features scrunched up; eyebrows furrowing and lips curling around the breathily hissed “I don’t get why you have to do this! I don’t get why you’re even  _ still staying _ with him even after he told you—!”

“—They aren’t even staying together, Taeyeon-ah,” a voice had drawled from the other side of the room, standing just a few feet away from Baekhyun’s other side. The words had been carried on a tone much too resigned, even a little deadpan; straightforward and emotionless,  _ cutting. _

“... Chanyeol has a separate apartment he lives in for his family and friends,” it had continued on, and Baekhyun couldn’t help the wince from leaving his lips, and neither could he help the shrinking of his frame nor the red painting his cheeks, “... one that Baekhyun himself hasn’t even  _ seen.” _

Embarrassment.

_ Humiliation. _

_ “Hyung,” _ Baekhyun had immediately called out, voice tight and small as he hurriedly made to cut Heechul’s sentence. Dragging his right hand up to press his forefinger and thumb against his temples, Baekhyun took in a breath, the action laborious and demanding all in its own. The other two in the room had immediately gone still,  _ quiet, _ turning their heads about their necks as they gazed at the lone,  _ distressed _ one in the room.

However, whilst Taeyeon’s features had remained in their scrunches and furrows, screaming of her own disbelief and pained upset at the reality of their current situation, Heechul’s spoke otherwise. His eyebrow furrow and the set of his jaw was nowhere near mirroring Taeyeon’s own emotions. Instead, they only further enhanced the sheer anger and frustration the the man already had. The tensing of his muscles and the rigidly stiff posture, one that was  _ extremely _ uncharacteristic of him, spoke enough.

“What?” Heechul had hissed out, the anger coursing through his veins resulting in a momentary lapse of focus and understanding. With his tone being nothing less than cutting, the realisation that the harshly uttered syllable had been directed at someone already well on their way of being  _ broken _ had completely slipped his mind. “What, Baekhyun? Are you going to try and tell me that I’m  _ wrong?” _

At that, Taeyeon had instantly stood up from where she had unceremoniously plopped down onto the bed, bringing her arms up in order to wrap them around Heechul’s flexed forearms. The oldest of the trio had taken a step in Baekhyun’s direction, and after having known him for well over a decade and living with him for a little more than half of that, Taeyeon knew exactly when Heechul was far too consumed in his anger and wasn’t able to think straight.

_ “Oppa—,” _ she cried out, voice resolutely stern even in her panic as she flickered her gaze between the two men; the two people who mattered the  _ most _ to her in her life. Digging her fingers into Heechul’s forearm, she fixed her gaze on his as soon as Heechul focused back on her, shaking her head subtly as she curled her lips into her mouth. 

_ ‘Stop,’ _ her eyes pleaded, throat tight and grip firm.  _ ‘Don’t do this.’ _

Heechul of course could understand exactly what she had been trying to convey. After all, they had reached a level of emotional intimacy that they were able to communicate just as well, if not even more so, nonverbally than they do so verbally.

… but that didn’t mean that he had to  _ listen _ to her.

Which was why Taeyeon, for how much and how long she had known Heechul, shouldn’t have been as surprised as she had been when he had rashly pulled himself away from her grip. She hadn’t even had the strength nor the time to reach out for Heechul yet again, for he had already been stomping over to where Baekhyun was standing, quiet and still in front of the open walk-in closet.

In front of  _ Heechul’s _ open walk-in closet.

… In front of Heechul’s open walk-in,  _ drag _ closet.

“Try and tell me that I’m wrong, Hyun-ah,” Heechul had taunted, had  _ demanded _ as he made his way over to where his closet was. The anger that he had brimming right under his skin had spilled over into his tone of voice as well, if the restrained tension and controlled volume were anything to go by. “Look me in the eye and try to tell me that  _ I’m fucking wrong—” _

…

…

…

“...  _ Hyun-ah…” _

Baekhyun had only responded with a choked breath, his eyelids sporadically fluttering shut in an attempt to fan away the wetness. He had brought his hand down, fingers no longer pressing into the corners of his temples to instead cup over the bottom half of his face, leaving his wrinkled forehead, furrowed brows and pained eyes in Heechul’s plain sight.

He hadn’t intended for Heechul to see his expression. He hadn’t intended to have been caught off guard. He hadn’t intended to lose his footing on the ground and have been swung so easily like that, just from Heechul’s clean tug on his forearm.

… He hadn’t intended to let Heechul see his  _ pain. _

“I—,” Baekhyun gasped, voice tight and choked, the pain and the hurt screaming from his expression obvious in his voice, muffled as it was behind his palm. “I  _ know, _ Hyung.”

“... I  _ know _ that he has a separate apartment, I  _ know.” _

Baekhyun had only shut his eyes then, his lids closing over his wet orbs, the action gentle even in their trembles. The lone statement might not have meant a lot to anyone, might not have seemed to be anything more than a statement of a fact. It might have seemed even rather insignificant when taken out of context, and that is something that neither three could deny.

… but once the context of the situation was put in place, once the reality of  _ their _ situation was put in place, once  _ Baekhyun’s _ reality had been processed and understood…

… that statement, and that statement  _ alone, _ spoke  _ volumes. _

For there were a lot of things that were left unsaid. For there were a lot of things that had not been mentioned. For there were a lot of things left in the dark from that statement and that statement alone.

… because the understanding and the realisation that Park Chanyeol, heir to the multi-national, billion-dollar conglomerate that is Park Enterprises, still has a separate apartment for when he hosts his family and friends despite already,  _ essentially, _ living with his boyfriend for one year out of the three that they’ve known each other... 

… and if that hadn’t been enough, if that knowledge hadn’t been enough… the fact that Baekhyun himself doesn’t even know where the apartment is, hasn’t even  _ seen in the flesh, _ much less been introduced to the very people he already views as his future parents- and sister-in-law, as well as the groomsmen at their wedding… 

It hurts.

It fucking  _ hurts. _

… For this had only managed to fuel Baekhyun’s insecurities; the very ones that had been manifesting and growing throughout the years that he had spent by Chanyeol’s side.

… because what else could Baekhyun feel, what else could Baekhyun  _ think, _ when the possibility that under all of Chanyeol’s sweet words and affectionate touches, that under all of Chanyeol’s mumbled promises and whispered “I love you”s…

… laid someone who only regarded him as nothing more, and nothing less, than a  _ dirty, little secret. _

A sob an instantly spilled past Baekhyun’s lips then, muted and suppressed against the skin of his trembling palm. Twin trails of tears followed soon after, Baekhyun having had squeezed his eyelids shut this time and successfully rendering his attempts at fanning the wetness away futile. It didn’t take long for him to begin to crumple in on himself either, shoulders hunching and back bending as his chin dipped, Baekhyun well on his way to truly and wholly embracing his insecurities and his hurt.

All the little moments when he had thought to himself about the reason why Chanyeol wouldn’t ever take him to his other apartment, the reason behind why Chanyeol would always brush away his questions about having his family over for dinner, the reason behind why Chanyeol would never hold his hand in public, much less kiss him, and even  _ lesser, _ to post anything on  _ both _ his own and  _ Baekhyun’s _ social media accounts…

He had tried to brush them off, bury them six feet under every single time they would pop up. Sometimes, he would even be goaded, maybe even  _ forced  _ to, for Chanyeol would always, somehow, someway, manage to get him to  _ forget. _ It would sometimes be through little interlocks of fingers under the table in a secluded booth, sometimes be through quick pecks on his cheeks right as they were about to get down from Chanyeol’s car, and sometimes it would be through long, firm, and  _ strong _ kisses on his lips right as they stopped at Baekhyun’s apartment complex for the night.

Other times, when they were in the privacy of Baekhyun’s own home, Baekhyun would be forced to forget about his insecurities and to shove his doubts right under the carpet. Chanyeol, as far as Baekhyun is concerned, somehow has a sixth sense for when Baekhyun would not be feeling all too good, could sense the precise moment when his boyfriend would let his fears about their relationship wash over him. His appearance and his entrance would be something that Baekhyun wouldn’t expect, for Chanyeol would swiftly swoop in and lift Baekhyun up, arms under his bottom and wrapped around his waist before he’d unceremoniously drop him onto the counter. Other times it would be on the couch, but most of the time it would be on their bed.

And Chanyeol would make love to him. Soft touches coupled with light bickering were only the stepping stones to get Baekhyun distracted from the thoughts plaguing his mind. They would soon develop, of course, the cute fondness and the playful banter melting away in light of firmer, reverent, more  _ meaningful _ caresses and mumbles. 

It was with each open-mouthed press of a kiss against the skin of his neck and inner thighs did Baekhyun’s muscles relax from the tension; dropping from agitated and defensive to relaxed and abiding. It was with each thrust of Chanyeol’s hips into his own core did Baekhyun’s eyebrows release themselves from their furrow; expression melting from worried to serene, from distressed to  _ bliss. _

… and it was with each meet of eyes, unblinking and steady, gaze nothing short of fond, of affectionate, of genuine _loving,_ coupled with watching how Chanyeol’s lips would curl around those syllables, letting himself bathe in the characteristically deep, soothing timbre wrapped around the “I love you”s, did Baekhyun finally, _finally,_ _forget._

But it was a cycle. Nothing more, and nothing less. A vicious cycle of constant ups and downs; emotions fluctuating in tandem with his doubts and insecurities, with Chanyeol’s kisses and attention, with their exchanged words and love-making.

… one that has been going on for almost three years now.

Baekhyun had never thought that it would break. In all honesty, he had never foreseen it coming to and end, maybe he never even  _ wanted _ it to end.

… because this was how, in some fucked up way, was how Baekhyun knew, was how he had long come to subconsciously understand that  _ this, _ both himself and their relationship kept aside and tucked away into the confines of his own home and text messages, would be the only way that he would ever be able to guarantee keeping Chanyeol by his side.

When their words of affection and touches of love were only kept restrained to the four walls of Baekhyun’s own apartment, never being brought to see the light of day nor to grace the eyes of the public. When their fond touches and shy caresses were only kept to be showcased to nothing but Baekhyun’s old couch and bed, to no one but those in his picture frames. When their whispered and reverent declarations of love were only heard and witnessed by themselves, and themselves only.

It was a secret, their relationship that is. A  _ dirty, little _ secret.

… because what else would a  _ male  _ conglomerate heir have to hide, have to meticulously keep under wraps, ensuring no one lays an eye on nor hears wind about, but a relationship with  _ another man? _

…

…

…

“... You deserve better, Hyun-ah,” Heechul had consoled, voice equal parts tight and muted as he pulled Baekhyun in closer. Sliding his arm over his shoulders and the other around his back, Heechul gently pulled him closer to himself, coaxing Baekhyun to bury his head into his neck with a combing of his fingers through his hair.

“... You really deserve better.”

… and Baekhyun—

_ —Baekhyun knows. _

Baekhyun  _ knows _ that he deserves better. He  _ knows _ that he shouldn’t just be anyone’s dirty little secret, kept only to be entertained and played with, humoured in the dead of night and in chat rooms where his contact name is nothing else but a lone emoji; with no name nor identification attached to his mobile number. He  _ knows _ that he shouldn’t be someone’s plaything, kept hidden and second only to another man’s pride, his lover of three years prioritising his own reputation over his boyfriend’s entire being, entire  _ existence. _

He  _ knows. _

… but the fucked up thing—

—the fucked up thing is that Baekhyun knows, and yet he  _ doesn’t leave. _

He doesn’t even  _ want _ to leave.

… because Baekhyun knows. He knows that for all of his intents and purposes, for how much Chanyeol tries to keep their relationship on the down-low and keep his honour and prestige of being The Heir to the Park Conglomerate…

… Chanyeol  _ loves _ him.

He’d always treat Baekhyun right, be the epitome of a perfect boyfriend once they were in the comforts of Baekhyun’s own home. He’d always kiss him good morning, arms wrapped snug around the other’s waist as he pulled him in close, not wanting to ever let go of Baekhyun and wanting to keep him to himself instead. He’d always make breakfast for the two of them, always making Baekhyun’s favourite when his lover seemed off the previous night and they hadn’t gotten the chance to talk much before the two of them went off to bed. He’d always hold Baekhyun from the back, roping his body in closer and pressing his pouted lips right on the base of his neck, a kiss that Baekhyun would always feel throughout the entire day. A reminder, a  _ statement. _

A firm, solid “I love you”, carrying the muted, yet equally as loud underlying message of “You are mine, as I am yours”.

… and he’d always text Baekhyun throughout the day. Little messages of “Have you eaten?  I packed some lunch for you”s and “The weather’s pretty bad today, did you bring your umbrella and your sunstick?”s were just a couple of the many questions Chanyeol would ask him all within the ten hour gap they wouldn’t see the other. Chanyeol would always take him on during lunch on the days that he had a little more time to spare, driving the half-hour journey it took to make his way all across the city, picking Baekhyun up from the quaint little firm he worked at just on the outskirts of the city with a press of lips on his cheek. He would also make sure to hold Baekhyun’s hand just tight, letting go of the console every chance he could in order to lace their fingers together before bringing the back of his boyfriend’s hand to his lips.

Chanyeol would spoil him greatly; taking the drive around the city if it meant he could treat Baekhyun to the suave new restaurant he came across the other day. He’d shower him with little gifts and trinkets that Chanyeol would say “they reminded me of you” as he handed them over to Baekhyun once they were back home. He’d hold him close and press his lips to his forehead, peppering little kisses all over the skin there. He’d bury his head into the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, hot breath fanning over his jugular at the same time he’d breath him in, pushing aside the scents of dry workplaces and expensive leather seats in place of Baekhyun’s  _ own _ natural scent.

_ “I missed you,” _ Chanyeol would mumble as he inhaled, arms wrapping tighter and fingers digging deeper into the give of his waist.  _ “I missed you so much.” _

… and he’d pick him up; palms sliding down to cup right under the curve of his bottom as he pulled Baekhyun up and off of the floor. Chanyeol would pay no heed to his little yelps and squeals, mind focused on nothing else but getting the both of them to the nearest soft, horizontal surface, the only thing fueling his actions being the undoubtable  _ need _ to feel Baekhyun, to  _ be one _ with him, to  _ make love _ to him.

… and Baekhyun…

… Baekhyun  _ felt  _ loved.

Baekhyun felt  _ Chanyeol’s love. _

He felt it in his holds. He felt it in his messages. He felt it in his touches, in his caresses, in his hugs and pulls. He felt it on his skin, in his thrusts, and in his eyes.

… and he felt it in each and every single  _ “I love you”. _

… and Baekhyun—

_ — Baekhyun felt the same. _

… Baekhyun would always,  _ always, _ feel the same.

 

* * *

 

 

When Taeyeon finally stepped out through the door of his apartment, Baekhyun had never thought that her efforts would have been  _ as _ successful as they were. Sure, he knew that Taeyeon was a stylist and a bit of a makeup artist herself, but he never thought that she’d be able to make his own features and frame…  _ change. _

And the funny thing is, that it wasn’t so much of a change as Baekhyun would have thought, it wasn’t something that he had been extremely uncomfortable with either. He had always known that he had rather soft features on his face, his droopy eyes, button nose, coupled with his bowed lips and full cheeks had always resulted in him being called ‘cute’ more often than not. His jawline was also rather smooth, definitely not a replica of the chiselled ones spread all over the covers of men’s magazines.

It was a fact, and it was also something that Baekhyun has long come to terms with. He had even been coined ‘pretty’ on more occasions than he’d ever thought, but he had never taken it derogatorily. Baekhyun had never felt that his own masculinity was compromised in light of these comments, of these  _ compliments, _ for the people who said it would always be genuine. The word would always be said so reverently, maybe even playfully envious by his own girl friends and it would also be said honestly, with no hint of malice or targetted emasculation, by his boyfriends.

In short, Baekhyun’s experience with the words ‘pretty’ and ‘cute’ had only been good. He had never once been on the receiving end of those words said in a bad context, and Baekhyun had always been grateful for just how lucky he ended up becoming. He had also long come to embrace those words, sometimes even being the one to personally associate those words with himself, taking precedence over ‘handsome’.

Because he had never felt any less of a man than he did, than he  _ was. _

He was cute, he was pretty,  _ and  _ he was also a  _ man. _

His masculinity was something that hadn’t been compromised, hadn’t been shunned even in light of the words ‘pretty’ and ‘cute’, and Baekhyun had thought that it would stay that way. He thought that he would always feel that way; accepting and welcoming of those words even as he was now and forever.

… but as he only continued staring at the mirror, as he continued staring at the… the  _ person _ in the mirror…

… he couldn’t help but think otherwise.

Because the one and only word that came to him then, all throughout the ten minutes he took to just sit there in front of their dressing table, frame rigid and posture stiff, eyes focused on nothing and nowhere else but the mirror positioned right in front of him, taking in and  _ scrutinising _ the… the reflection, scrutinising  _ his _ reflection…

…  _ ‘Pretty’. _

… She was pretty.

…

…

...

_ She _ was pretty.

 

* * *

 

 

“... I—”

“Let’s just get this over and done with, okay?” Baekhyun had quickly made to interrupt, successfully cutting off the other’s sentence before it could practically even begin. With deft fingers, he made quick work of unbuckling his seatbelt whilst ensuring that his fingers wouldn’t be too caught up in the strips of polyester.

After all, it would be a shame to ruin his manicure just a day after he got them.

Making sure to hold down the modest denim skirt, Baekhyun swiftly got out of the car, ensuring to remain poised and elegant as he did so. He didn’t pay too much mind on Chanyeol, focusing instead on slinging his cross-body bag in just the right fashion such that it was positioned stylishly. It had also allowed him to keep his mind  _ off _ of other things as well, keeping his mind working on the shallow issues before they could delve deeper into the more pressing, more  _ concerning _ matters at hand.

Swallowing, Baekhyun tried his hardest to squash down the bubbling doubts and insecurities that were slowly but steadily rising beneath his skin. Keeping his mind focused and gaze scrutinised on how each pebble and brick had been laid out so artistically messy on the pathway leading to the main door, Baekhyun only waited as Chanyeol handed off his vehicle to one of their staff members; essentially the Park’s valet man.

“Alright,” Chanyeol announced, the underlying nervousness and and anxiety expertly masked behind a facade of jubilance and excitement as he slipped his fingers through Baekhyun’s lax ones. Baekhyun could see just how much Chanyeol’s chest had expanded by, ribs ballooning and shrinking into his chest with a deep inhale and exhale, one that Baekhyun knew Chanyeol resorted to in times when he was feeling particularly ansty.

He was clearly bracing himself, and it was understandable as to why he was. The fear would probably have been gone unnoticed by just about anyone else, but Baekhyun could read Chanyeol just as well as he could an open book.

Three years was a long time to get to know someone, after all.

… and it was also a long time to get to know the aspects of what you liked about the other, and what you  _ didn’t _ like about the other.

… and Baekhyun had long come to realise and accept that no matter the situation, no matter the context of their predicament, a nervous and anxious Chanyeol definitely is in the top few headlines of the latter list.

With his mind immediately clearing itself of all the insecurities and doubts that had plagued it, Baekhyun instead diverted his attention to Chanyeol. Giving the thicker fingers hooked loosely between his own a light squeeze, Baekhyun only let a small smile grace his lips, the pink-tint on them serving to only further enhance them.

Sweet. Innocent. Cute.

_ Pretty. _

“... You’re beautiful,” Chanyeol had whispered, voice taking on a far-off note, almost like as though he couldn’t truly grasp onto the situation at hand. His eyes had gone quite dazed too, the brown in them thinning in light of his pupils dilating as Chanyeol let his gaze trail all over his lover’s face, head tilted to the side and smile pulling along the corners of his lips.

“... You’re  _ really  _ beautiful.”

… and Baekhyun couldn’t help the way his face had dipped, chin digging into the soft material of the blouse draped over his chest. If Chanyeol had whispered those same words any other time but now, he would have been doing so out of bashfulness,  _ shy, _ and he’d feel his own chest blossom in warmth, his nerves fraying at the edges as the fond affection he had for the other man would start swelling in his chest.

This time, however…

… his lips had only pursed, the small smile struggling to stay on his face in light of the sudden and sheer chill spreading all throughout his chest. His own heart had gone to lead, stony and chilly, the blood rushing through his veins stilling; freezing,  _ cold. _

… because Baekhyun wasn’t sure.

… he wasn’t sure whether his lover of three years, the very man whom he intends to  _ marry, _ was referring to Byun Baekhyun, or  _ Kim Ha Eun. _

…  _ he wasn’t sure. _

 

* * *

 

 

The words had slipped past easily. Lips curling and voice pitching around the syllables detailing  _ his _ history, and painting it as  _ Ha Eun’s _ own;  _ her  _ career,  _ her  _ achievements and  _ her  _ dreams.  _ Ha Eun _ had braved through them, voice smooth and honeyed, the low timbre gone in favour of one more mellow, more subdued, more  _ feminine _ . The words had also flowed rather seamlessly too, smoothly and gracefully fired out one after the other and interrupted only by polite pauses, gentle hums, and light laughs.

_ “I work as a vocal trainer, at a Music Academy.” _

_ “I graduated Yonsei with Honours, majored in Piano.” _

_ “I want to start up my own Music Academy one day, and I think I can do so in about three years…?” _

All that she had been reciprocated with was nothing but a round of pleasant surprise and little trinkets of pride, with the latter mostly aimed at Chanyeol with each flicker of the Parks’ family eyes onto their youngest. There had been no contempt or belittlement swirling about in their gazes once  _ Ha Eun _ had mentioned the details about herself, something which  _ Baekhyun _ couldn’t help but be surprised about.

The responses of  _ “Oh, if only we had met you earlier! We’d have loved to hear you sing at Mom’s birthday last year!” _ and  _ “I actually know a few people who could help you out with starting up the Academy, would you like to speak to them?” _ had certainly been unexpected. The Park Family, for all of the glitz and the glamour that they were swarmed with on a daily basis, were much more in touch with their humility and humanity than Baekhyun had thought them to be.

After all, what else would he expect but scorn and snob from a family his own  _ boyfriend _ didn’t want to introduce him to?

He had pegged them to be in line with all other homophobic families out there. At the very least, like those families that are always plastered over billboards in dramas and films; filthy rich, disgustingly arrogant, and ignorantly homophobic. But his experience that he had with them so far, as little as a half-hour dinner might be, has only been going in the direction of very much proving his assumptions (and stereotypes),  _ wrong. _

The Parks  _ were _ indeed filthy rich, there was no lie nor argument about that. Living in a secluded mansion off the road and rather deep into the woods, the family’s own living space had been shielded and protected from view from satellites and rovers. 

They were  _ that _ rich.

However Baekhyun had paid no heed to that, for it had been a fact that has long been established too. It was the realisation that his boyfriend’s family hadn’t been as arrogant as he thought that they’d be. Basing all of his assumptions off of the shows playing on the big screens and of the little trinkets of memories of business parties and gatherings from Chanyeol, Baekhyun had always assumed that the Parks held themselves to a  _ high _ standard. This, in Baekhyun’s books, had translated to the Parks essentially scrunching their noses at anything that wasn’t  _ “worthy”. _

And Baekhyun, little humble Baekhyun who grew up in a quaint little house with no one but his grandmother and her little farm of cattle and cabbages, had thought that his dreams of starting his own Music Academy would have been deemed insignificant,  _ unworthy. _

But when all that he got had been pleasant words of encouragement and warm applause at his talent, Baekhyun couldn’t help but feel otherwise. The anxiety that had been wringing his stomach into knots had melted away, leaving him in reprieve, as momentarily as it may have been. He was still rather nervous, for anxiousness is always an expected companion when one is in the face of what, of  _ who _ is essentially the royal family of South Korea, but it had significantly toned down after he had realised that honestly, the Park family wasn’t as…  _ scary _ as they had been painted to be.

So he had let a bit of his guard down, the worry of not having been good enough rapidly melting away and allowing his shoulders to drop and lungs to expand again. The relief had been obvious, of course, and Baekhyun would have been rather embarrassed at just how apparent the slumping of his shoulders had been if it hadn’t been for the laughter it managed to coax out from the family.

_ “We aren’t  _ ugly  _ people, Ha Eun-ah,” _ Mrs. Park had reassured, voice honeyed and maternal as she helped  _ Ha Eun _ to another serving of one of the dishes. The smile stretched across her face had been warm and friendly enough to have Baekhyun relaxing back in his seat, his own smile stretching across his lips.  _ “The only thing we’re being rather ugly about is how Chanyeollie here kept you away from us for so long!” _

Her last line had been said around a playfully exasperated exclaim, one that was parroted by the rest of the table. Yoora had nodded along rather enthusiastically as she wiped down three-year-old Daehan’s face, her maternal skills showing as she only paid half a mind to keeping her son clean and tidy. Mr. Park had only furrowed his brows as his lips turned down into what could only be a pout, nodding along (although  _ much _ less enthusiastically as compared to his daughter) as soon as the words left his wife’s lips.

_ “I mean, I can understand why my brother kept you from us,”  _ Yoora hummed once she had deemed Daehan to be proper enough,  _ “you’re lovely, after all. I’d keep you to myself too.” _ It had been said so flippantly, almost uncaringly, and it brought a smile to both Baekhyun’s and Chanyeol’s own lips. Baekhyun had almost wanted to laugh too, the warm feeling of welcome and affection he could already feel from the family prompting his own chest to bubble. 

But Mr. Park had spoken much sooner than Baekhyun could have chuckled.

_ “What is this, a drop-out Millennial March?” _ With his eyebrows quirked and lips pulled into a mocking smirk, Mr. Park only set aside his napkin as he continued on.  _ “Tit for tit, tat for tat?” _

Baekhyun had  _ instantly _ felt the exact moment when Chanyeol had froze in his seat. He felt the exact moment when his boyfriend had gone tense, limbs locking and skin paling. He felt the exact moment when his lover had gone quiet, the sudden anxiety and fear replacing each and every ounce of relief and happiness that had been in abundance just mere moments ago.

Baekhyun could feel them, had felt them.

…  _ for he felt the same. _

_ “Oh, of course not!”  _ Mrs. Park laughed, eyebrows furrowed in a way that suggested she had just heard the most  _ absurd _ phrase in her entire life. With her palms gently waving in the air, the Park matriarch only shook her head as she focused back on the food, action and expression dismissive.  _ “Nothing of that sort at the table— goodness, we’re  _ eating,  _ in case any of you forgot.” _

… and Baekhyun… 

_ — Baekhyun didn’t know what to feel. _

…

…

…

“... Do you understand me now, Baek…?”

_ Do you understand why I have to keep you as my  _ dirty, little  _ secret? _

…

…

…

_ No. _

_ No. I don’t understand why— _

“Yes.”

“... Yes, I do.”

…

…

…

…  _ I don’t understand why I have to be regarded as a  _ stain.

_ … and I don’t understand how I’m still in love with you even after this, even after  _ today.

…  _ I  _ don’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We ended off on a rather, I would say, "what the fuck" note, but Baekhyun's feelings and standpoint would be explained further more in the next few chapters. Again, as I've mentioned in my top "Author's Note"; this story and the essential "foundation / plot line" of it may be deemed as controversial so if you have made it this far, I'd like to thank you. However, if you wish to stop reading, I will completely understand and you don't have to go further. You can stop right here and call it a day; this might be difficult to read and I understand that.
> 
> However, if you do wish to continue reading, there will be 3 chapters left (all posted weekly on Sundays, KST). Please do leave your opinions and comments on the plot / characters down in the comments below, but please do not leave any hate. I do not mean to arouse any form of hatred or anger from anyone (of which is directed at me), for this is just fiction and is a rather I would say "sensitive" plot line that I've always wanted to challenge myself to write. I am only sharing my own take on a particular prompt, and as mentioned previously, I do not condone such actions of being untrue to anyone (be it your partner or your family).
> 
> I am also open to constructive criticism, so if you find any particular area in which I can improve on, please do leave them down in the comments below! Thank you so much for reading, and have a good day ahead!
> 
> [P.S. You can find me on Twitter, [@zkxxdlin](https://twitter.com/zkxxdlin) , and if you would like to send me your thoughts personally, just drop me a DM :) ]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will focus a lot more on Baekhyun's history, and is essentially going to be a "filler" chapter. However, I personally feel that it is essential because I guess it gives insight into the reason why Baekhyun will do what he will do. I won't be saying anymore because I don't want to spoil anything, but yes!
> 
> Again, please do take the tags seriously. If you are in any way uncomfortable with the idea of this story / where you think it is going to go, you don't have to continue reading. The "Author's Note" from Chapter 1 applies to here as well. Anyway, now on to the story!

_Rule of Three._

It has always been something that Baekhyun has abided by. A shared understanding, a unanimous yet unsaid promise that had been shared and passed on to him by both Heechul and Taeyeon ever since he had been roped to be under their wing all those years ago.

He remembers the memory clearly; the details and the playthrough of the scene always retaining their vividness and clarity every single time he recounts that particular memory. He remembers how his vision had been blurry, tears staining his cheeks and heart in his throat as he stumbled into Taeyeon’s apartment.

Heechul had been there, whether unintentionally or not, and he had helped the petite Taeyeon up with lifting and carrying the deadweight that was Baekhyun’s taller, denser frame off of the ground of their foyer. Baekhyun hadn’t exactly known what had transpired, for all that he remembered had been him collapsing at Taeyeon’s feet and the thundering hurt in his heart one second, and then he’d been seated and wrapped up in blankets on their well-loved couch, nursing a steaming hot of bittersweet chocolate in his hands the next.

The drink had been forgotten though, the warmth that he could feel seeping through his chilled palms serving as the only reminder that it was there, for Baekhyun had only focused on, _could_ only focus on was flushing out the pain from his system. His words hadn’t been all that coherent either, if his memory revolving around the fact that he had been nothing but a little more than sobs and sniffles proved correctly. Muffled around the edges and choked around gasps, Baekhyun thinks that Taeyeon had been gifted with some sort of sixth sense or something to have understood him enough to realise how his then boyfriend had forgotten their anniversary.

It may seem rather trivial now, but at that time, Baekhyun had regarded it to be one of the last few nails to the coffin that is their relationship. They had been drifting apart recently, something that Baekhyun had realised (or, more accurately, been slapped in the face with) right on the day of their third anniversary itself.

He recalls how silent the two of them had gone in their conversations, their work and careers taking precedence over communicating with the very person they _both_ thought, at that time, who they’d be spending the rest of their lives with. Dinners with colleagues soon became more and more frequent in light of the promotions lingering above everyone’s head, and it wasn’t something that Baekhyun could blame Joon for. After all, Joon getting that promotion would mean that his boyfriend would have been one step closer to holding that position that he so very much dreamed of.

So he stayed silent, never once mumbling his complains or discontent as he gave his muted encouragement and support, this continuing well after Joon had changed his job position from ‘Associate’ to ‘Manager’.

… and it had continued on.

For Joon hadn’t stopped there.

 _“You’re so capable, I feel like you’re_ overqualified _for even this position!”_ and _“You’re fit to be a director, I don’t know just what the hell Management are doing keeping you here!”_ soon enough became quite common phrases Baekhyun would hear being relayed to him. Joon would be nothing but smiles and curved eyes, cheeks flushed and chest ballooned as he recounted the events of the day as well as his schedules and responsibilities.

Of course, Baekhyun had been nothing but ecstatic for his boyfriend all throughout the first few weeks, elated that _Joon_ is progressing with his career and striving to do what he wants and achieving his _dream._

He was happy that Joon was happy.

… but it all soon enough began to fade, and not for the reason of Baekhyun being envious of Joon and his success, no. The magic that had revolved around the success of Joon’s efforts and hardwork hadn’t dissipated in light of anger or jealousy, not at all. In fact, what it had instead succeeded in doing had been to coerce Baekhyun into striving for his own success, to move forth and grow in his own career as well.

And this fact, this _revelation_ of Baekhyun’s, had made Joon happy as well.

 _“Let’s_ both _achieve our dreams, Hyunnie,”_ Baekhyun remembers Joon murmuring those words, tone as soft and fond as his hold on Baekhyun’s own hands. His smile had been just as adoring too, the light tilt to the corners of his lips screaming the affection that was just as loud in his half-lidded, warm gaze then, both of which Baekhyun couldn’t help but reciprocate.

His own squeeze of Joon’s hands had spoken enough, and their night had ended off with nothing but a reinstatement of their young love as well as a promise for a better future, as individuals and as a whole.

… and they made good on their promise, kept at it for an entire year. Joon had continued to progress on in his work and in his career, awarded yet another promotion in the expanse of eight months alone, and Baekhyun did the same. Choosing to step out of his comfort zone and into established vocal academies with significant alumni and impressive clientele, Baekhyun soon found himself landed amidst significant names in film and music.

They were both succeeding, were both very well on their way to being successful individuals, and they were happy for each other.

… but that was where the exact problem lay.

With Joon’s constantly piling tasks and monumental list of responsibilities, coupled with Baekhyun’s sudden plummet into the world of vocal training and immersion into the sea that is stardom, they realised soon enough that whilst they had successfully made on their promise to be better individuals and happy for the other…

… they weren’t happy _together._

The walls of their home soon grew to be cold, too constricting and too stifling. With birthdays and dates being forgone for overtime and company social events, both Joon and Baekhyun soon enough found themselves more familiar with the company of their 9-5 colleagues than with their boyfriend of two and a half years.

… and when the fateful day came when they were supposed to be celebrating their love for the third year in a row, Baekhyun realised just how much of boyfriends they _weren’t._

It had hurt, of course it had. With him barely being older than a fresh graduate, and Joon having been his senior of two years, it shattered his expectations of what had only been pure, unabashed, and _everlasting_ love. He had been slapped, _hard,_ by the reality of what it meant to be an adult and what it meant to fully transition from a college kid to a person in the workforce; where decisions and balance cut far deeper and impact far longer than simply deciding between staying home to study or to head out to a party.

They both made decisions, and they both made promises.

… but they were ones made in their shared high from hopeful futures and naive belief.

The full weight of their situation and how far under it had gone under didn’t hit Baekhyun right until he had received the text message from Joon; eyes sheening over and blurring the short, sharp, and seemingly _too_ concise wording of _“I won’t be home”._ Baekhyun couldn’t focus on anything else then; not the blaringly circled date on their calendar, not the neat, _too_ neat mess that was their apartment, and most definitely not the array of dishes spread out on their dining table.

His fingers had been shaking then, trembling in their torn need to grip the phone tighter in his hands or to throw it away completely; can’t decide on whether or not he should grip onto the faint, faint, _faint_ sliver of hope that couldn’t help but be aroused when Baekhyun realised that _“at the very least, he still has the courtesy to text me”,_ or to be consumed in violence, needing to expel the sudden, _terrifying_ anger that sprouted from thoughts of _“You are always never around”_ and _“this isn’t_ home”.

_“This hasn’t been home.”_

_“..._ I’ve _never been home.”_

… and it was with this sudden realisation, akin to a bomb dropping right onto him, curled up with tears slipping past his eyes every few seconds as he tried his hardest to make out the words glaring up at him through the screen, that Baekhyun finally come to understand.

… he finally came to understand that this, that _this…_

_… this was it…_

… that this was _it_ for them.

Yet Baekhyun had been conflicted. A young person in even younger love, it hadn’t surprised Taeyeon, much less Heechul, just why Baekhyun was finding so much trouble leaving a love that seemed to have left long ago.

The both of them had been compassionate and empathetic about it, of course, for both of them had been in the same exact situation years ago themselves. There had been no mockery nor derogation in the way Taeyeon had pushed his head into the crook of her neck, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing soothing circles into his back, and neither was there any in the way Heechul had combed his hair back or in the press of his lips against Baekhyun’s damp temples.

But there had been experience, and there had been love. Baekhyun hadn’t only just felt them through the firm holds that they pulled him in or the chiding touches they left on his back. He could see it in their set jaws and stern gazes, and Baekhyun had never felt more like a child with protective, yet equally as stern _parents_ than he had then.

 _“This is a rule that I’m going to be sharing with you, Hyun-ah,”_ Baekhyun remembers just how deep and firm Heechul’s voice had been, void of the characteristic jovial melody that Baekhyun has long since sought comfort in. The older’s lips had also been nothing but a straight line, pursed and empty of any sign of humor or kid as they curled around the syllables of _“the Rule of Three; three strikes, and that’s it.”_

_Three chances, and that’s it._

And it sufficed. Baekhyun instantly felt his entire frame relax, the pressure and the conflict that his emotions and entire being had been in dissipating as soon as he saw the three fingers that Heechul had been holding up. It had been grounding, and Baekhyun couldn’t help but feel at peace with himself, as momentarily as it was.

Both Heechul and Taeyeon had given him an out; something that sufficed as both a hope and an out, depending on what course of action either party decided to take throughout the three chances.

… and it had worked.

It had worked as an out.

It had been difficult, that was expected, but it had been resolute. Joon had been understanding, had even admitted that he had foreseen this coming weeks back then. The both of them were seated on the couch, legs crossed but torsos facing the black screen of their extravagant 60” plasma, and Baekhyun couldn’t help but find the sight of it painfully ironic.

It had been a result of their combined hard work, a physical embodiment of the effort that they had put in into their careers. The surround sound system and the motion detector technology littered all about their house had a few of the others, and seeing them all laid out so lavishly, so _proudly_ had only prompted a wry smile to curl up along the edges of Baekhyun’s lips.

They had indeed made good on their promise. They had indeed become successful individuals.

… but it was at the cost of happiness, of love.

… the cost of _their_ happiness, the cost of _their_ love.

They parted only with a few tears from both parties, a few laughs here and there, a long, firm hold, and a promise to continue being successful, and to continue being happy, but as individuals this time.

… and Baekhyun had thought that he was making good on that promise; thought that he was indeed a happy individual even after all these years once they had parted ways.

… but now, as he stared at the reflection in the mirror, at the person whose locks were being held back by a white hairband, at the person who had little hints of pink dusted over their eyelids, at the person whose shoulders and hips were being covered; the thin, white, and flowy material of their sundress draped elegantly over their frame…

… Baekhyun doesn’t know if he can still say the same.

 _“Rule of Three, Baekhyun,”_ he whispered, watching how _her_ pink-tinted lips curled around the words, the same shade they had been just over two months ago.

_“... Rule of Three.”_

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol hadn’t been too ecstatic once Baekhyun had laid out his single rule. It was to be expected, of course, the way in which his boyfriend’s entire posture went from timidly expectant to helplessly rigid. His features had morphed from one of hesitant fear to muted anger, and it was obvious in the way his eyebrows furrowed down into a single line from where they had been slightly raised on his forehead, in the way his lips had pursed into a thin, tight white line from where they had been parted. His entire posture had changed too, the openness and vulnerability melting away with each stiffening of his limbs, with each tensing of his muscles.

 _“I—”_ Chanyeol had only ran his fingers through his hair, knuckles tight and action rough as he mussed up his locks, undoing them from their slicked back and gelled updo. His tie hadn’t even been loosened, grey jacket still buttoned and dress socks still stretched over his feet as he stood in the kitchen of Baekhyun’s apartment, yet the manner in which he had exhaled and how he had combed his hair back had been enough for him to loose all semblance of neat and proper; _ruffled._

Baekhyun had only flickered his gaze back down to his feet, arms crossed across his chest and his own fingers digging into his flesh as he tried his hardest to swallow the lump in his throat. Breathing getting increasingly more and more more laboured, lungs seemingly growing more and more constricted with each pace that Chanyeol took about their kitchen, Baekhyun only clenched his eyes shut as he braced himself for Chanyeol’s outburst.

The both of them had been walking on eggshells around the other ever since that day they had come back home from Chanyeol’s family house, that day that Chanyeol and _Ha Eun_ had come back from the Park mansion.

Chanyeol had tried to reach out to Baekhyun, he really did. Fingers fidgeting as they hung limply by the sides of his hips, lips parting before quickly being pulled into a purse, and chest expanding before quickly deflating soon after—

… but Baekhyun had been nothing but reclusive.

His movements had been calculated, sharp, fingers dexterous and deft as he hooked them under the lace of the wig and as he curled them around the hook of the bra; measured. Baekhyun had moved so fast and so quickly that Chanyeol hadn’t even had the time to truly process what had just transpired before Baekhyun was dressed back in an oversized _Supreme_ shirt and sweatpants, face scrubbed red and raw from where he had hastily and forcefully rubbed his makeup off.

Chanyeol hadn’t had much time to process either, because the transition from _Kim Ha Eun_ to _Byun Baekhyun_ had been so swift and so quick, that his already muddled, anxious mind wasn’t able to keep up with it. The only thing that he could process then had been the fact that Baekhyun hadn’t even uttered a word even once; silent and mute ever since they bid their goodbyes at the door of the mansion.

The silence had continued on even in the car, the cold air stifling even through Chanyeol’s almost pathetically warm attempts at conversation. He had been very obviously trying his hardest to ignore the great big elephant within the car, if the way Chanyeol had went straight to talks about the Music Academy were anything to go by. His little comments on how _“Dad knows quite a few people, he’ll be able to get you connected to them in no time”_ and _“Mom was probably hinting at you coming over to the family gathering two months from now, to sing for us”_ fell on stubbornly deaf ears, the words flying over Baekhyun’s head and ignored from disbelief and disbelief alone.

… and it had eventually gotten too much, apparently, for both parties.

It was somewhere in the midst of Chanyeol’s statement detailing how _“At least they like you—”_ did Baekhyun finally break the silence, break _his_ silence.

With his gaze still very much focused on the blur of green right outside the car window, Baekhyun only fiddled with his fingers as he scoffed, tone monotonous, voice _dead._

 _“They like_ Kim Ha Eun… _not Byun Baekhyun.”_

…

…

…

… _Silence._

Nothing but pure, pin-drop, _silence._

It had been nothing else but a statement, one that was factual, and one that was true. The manner in which it was uttered had also been rather nonchalant; straightforward and point-blank, void of any form of emotions, of animosity.

It shocked Chanyeol.

Yet it didn’t at the same time.

Left wide-eyed and pursed lipped, Chanyeol could only clench his fingers tighter around the wheel, gaze dropping down to his lap as Baekhyun promptly unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car. He didn’t see how Baekhyun’s movements had been stiff and rigid, how his limbs had been wound tight and tense, and he didn’t see how his features had been blank, _void._

A mask.

… but Chanyeol didn’t have to have his eyes on Baekhyun in order for him to have seen, much less _understood_ just what Baekhyun looked like, just what Baekhyun was _feeling_ like.

The lone sentence had been clue enough.

… because even though Baekhyun hadn’t been too explicit in his choice of words, hadn’t been too transparent in the emotions that he truly was feeling right then, the unsaid and unspoken _“They like someone who doesn’t even exist”_ still rang loud and clear, and was _still_ ringing loud and clear, even though the shut engine and the carpark of their apartment complex was enveloped in nothing but _silence._

Chanyeol hadn’t known what to say, mind coming up blank and throat shut tight as he trailed along behind Baekhyun, eyes not meeting Baekhyun’s own averting ones as they stood in opposite corners of the elevator. The silence only stretched on, right from the moment they stepped into the lift till they stepped foot into the apartment, and it had gotten much too stifling, much too suffocating, that Chanyeol himself couldn’t _stand_ it.

… yet Baekhyun had cut him off before he could make it through the first two syllables of apology.

 _“Save it,”_ cutting, _slicing, “I don’t want to hear it.”_

… and Chanyeol understood.

… because, again, Chanyeol has known Baekhyun. Chanyeol has known him for _three_ years, has been with him intimately; physically, mentally, and _emotionally,_ all throughout those years. He knows and understands him, able to read and to see and to hear and to _feel_ just what Baekhyun isn’t showing, what he isn’t saying, what he isn’t expressing.

After all these years of being together, living and breathing all within the same space in extended periods of time, of getting to know and unravel and peel off the layers upon layers of defence and shields and masks, left exposed and vulnerable to the other’s eyes and ears and touch…

… it hence isn’t surprising how Chanyeol didn’t even have to _try_ to be able to see, to be able to hear, and to be able to _feel_ Baekhyun’s unsaid and heavily masked words and emotions.

_“I don’t want to hear an apology that you don’t mean.”_

… and Chanyeol—

— Chanyeol had bristled. Eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching, fingers curling and lips pursing. The anger was slowly brimming right beneath his skin, and it was slowly and steadily seeping out, _obvious._

… because no matter what he were to say or do at that instant, no matter what he were to refute or argue with at that moment, Baekhyun’s unspoken words had been nothing but _true._

He hadn’t meant it.

Asking Baekhyun to cross-dress as a woman and spending hours upon hours crafting up a believable story that hadn’t left any loop or plot holes in regards to how it was that they met, tweaking their own story into one that was more hetero-friendly and hetero- _believable._ Picking Baekhyun up and calling _her_ beautiful, eyes glazed and smile pleased as he curled a lock of the unnatural brown behind _her_ ear. Proudly introducing _her_ to his family and making sure that everything that slipped out of _her_ lips aroused nothing but accepting pleasantries and welcoming grins. Ignoring the obvious and glaring elephant in the room to instead delve deep into talks about _her_ opening up _her_ own music academy, getting _her_ connected to the people that his dad knew, getting _her_ to achieve _her_ dream—

… and completely, wholly, and _utterly_ ignoring how it had been _him_ all along.

… ignoring how it had been _Byun Baekhyun_ all along.

…

…

…

… Chanyeol hadn’t said that he was sorry because he meant it to _Baekhyun._

… he said it because he didn’t _want_ to say sorry.

He had wanted Baekhyun to realise, wanted Baekhyun to understand and see the direction in which he was coming from. He had wanted Baekhyun to go along with his plan, to help him feed his overbearing and power-hungry family with a tease, a taste; one that was promising and fulfilling enough for them to go ahead and void all the engagement preparations they were already probing into. He had wanted Baekhyun to stand by his side as he fought against his family, a show of how he already had a lover, how he was already happy with someone by his side, up until the moment they would unleash him; _uncollar._

He had found his points and views valid; understandable and logical. He thought that _Baekhyun_ had found them understandable, had found them logical.

After all, Chanyeol has a feeling that Baekhyun _himself_ wouldn’t want him to be married off to some trophy wife of a billionaire’s daughter.

… and maybe Chanyeol still is right, maybe Chanyeol’s hunch is still true, because he remembers vividly how Baekhyun had reacted as soon as Chanyeol had given him his reason behind his request. He had bristled; posture tensing and anger carving the furrows between his brows and pulling along the ends of his lips. His expression of his incredulity was rather boisterous; Baekhyun being nothing but a mess of scathing remarks and sharp comments, and Chanyeol—

… Chanyeol felt _relief._

… because to him, being faced with a seething and heated Baekhyun at that particular point in time, it had meant that they saw _eye to eye._

… that Baekhyun understood him, that Baekhyun would _agree_ with him.

… and maybe—

Maybe for a while, for a brief period of time, Baekhyun had went along with it; agreed to it purely based on the realisation and assumption that he would be doing this _for_ Chanyeol. That he would be doing this in order to keep Chanyeol by is side, _just as much_ as how Chanyeol wanted to keep Baekhyun by his side.

… the realisation that Baekhyun, Chanyeol’s _lover_ and also a _man,_ would have been _shameful_ to the Park family, would have been shameful to _Chanyeol—_

 _—…_ it didn’t register then.

Which was why Chanyeol couldn’t exactly blame Baekhyun either, pacing around in the kitchen just a month after their last visit to the Park mansion, mind a mess and demeanour even more so after Baekhyun had spoken.

After a month of _silence._

 _“I’m not something to be ashamed of,”_ Baekhyun had said, shaky voice resolute. His posture was screaming nothing less than terrified bravery, if the way he had his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders hunched were of any significance. His gaze was fixated right on Chanyeol; stern eyes hidden beneath his furrowed brows, and Chanyeol could do nothing but run his fingers through his hair.

 _“I— I_ know _you’re not something to be ashamed of, Baekhyun—”_

_“—Then why are you treating me like one?”_

… and Chanyeol…

… Chanyeol _didn’t have a response to that at all._

…

…

…

 _“... Three chances, Chanyeol,”_ Baekhyun had mumbled, tone nothing more than a whisper, gaze dropping back down to the ground.

_“... Three chances.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, so as I've mentioned this is sort of a "filler" chapter; giving us insight into what exactly is Baekhyun's history and his thought process (into giving Chanyeol chances). He tried the "Rule of Three" philosophy with Joon before, and it worked. It acted as a "defining" action in their relationship, and that is what Baekhyun is hoping to achieve here too. I would like to say more but I don't want to project my thoughts and viewpoints onto you guys hahah; I'm really interested in what you all think about this chapter! How do you feel about Baekhyun giving Chanyeol these chances? Is it fair for him and/or their relationship? Your thoughts and opinions are very much appreciated!! :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for reading, and again the "Author's Note" from Chapter 1 also applies to this chapter, and the remaining two as well. If you would like to personally share you opinion on this story with me, you can find me at [@zkxxdlin](https://twitter.com/zkxxdlin) on Twitter. Thank you again, and I'll see you in the next chapter! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, and the writing style is something that I truly experimented with, and my perception of this chapter is that it's more like hints of what happened rather than explicitly stating it! Please let me know what you think of this writing style, I would love any feedback! :)
> 
> Anyway, this chapter focuses a lot on the three chances that Baekhyun gave to Chanyeol, and for the sake of not spoiling, I won't elaborate further (although I'm guessing that you guys know just what this chapter will be about based on the tags!).
> 
> Again, I do not condone whatever it is that Baekhyun did for Chanyeol, nor what Chanyeol asked of Baekhyun. I believe strongly in loving someone for who and what they are and not being afraid to show it. You shouldn't hide or throw away your entire existence for someone else. This is purely fiction and a plot that I've challenged myself to write, so please do understand that. Thank you.

“It was— I didn’t  _ mean  _ it that way—”

“—Then  _ what, _ Chanyeol?!” Baekhyun’s eyes had been filled with nothing else but sheer incredulity and disbelief, the usually warm umber glazing over into a chilly brown in light of the slight wetness. His gaze alone had been enough to pin Chanyeol back down onto where he was standing, his boyfriend’s determined steps faltering and his arms frozen where they were reaching out to him.

Shaking his head, Baekhyun only bit his trembling lip harder and clenched his jaw even tighter as one perfectly manicured hand came up to ruffle his tousled locks, the very ones finally released from their suffocating cage of a wig cap and brown tresses.

The scratch of acrylic against his scalp had never been more disgusting than it was then.

Feeling the familiar strain along his temples and seeing the characteristic blurring of his waterlines, Baekhyun’s eyelids quickly went into overdrive; fluttering rapidly in succession over the wetness in a desperate attempt to fan it away.

He isn’t going to break down now.

He isn’t going to  _ allow _ himself to break down now.

… Not in front of Chanyeol.

… Not in front of the very person who had said, point-blank and  _ straight up— _

“—What else does  _ ‘’I’ll never be one of them’—” _ a sharp inhale, before a trembling exhale.

_ “... What  _ else _ can it mean, Chanyeol?” _

…

…

…

… Chanyeol didn’t have an answer to that.

… because he  _ couldn’t _ answer that.

He knew what he said.

He knew the impact of his words uttered in the context they were uttered in.

Because, like what his own boyfriend had said—

_ —What else could  _ ‘I’m not one of them’  _ mean, when it was said as a response to ‘I thought you were one of those morbid animals, y’know? Heads empty to the point where they go for their own kind’? _

…

…

…

“... In case you’ve forgotten,” Baekhyun called out, breaking the silence with nothing else but blank resolve. The cold brown was seemingly even more icy; the hue associated with nothing but warmth and welcome now shielded and hazed over by the heavy wetness, eyes glinting even in the faint light.

Chanyeol could only watch, the current whirlwind state of his mind obvious in his own eyes; his own brown swimming with so many conflicting thoughts of  _ ‘why’s  _ and fluctuating emotions of  _ regret  _ that it became dull,  _ blank. _ He only stood still, frame stiff and limbs frozen as Baekhyun hastily scrubbed a piece of dry tissue over his eyes and lips, leaving him in a mess of what had once been perfectly done-up makeup; skin rubbed red and complemented with streaks of pinks and orange.

“I am  _ Byun Baekhyun, _ Chanyeol,” Baekhyun declared, voice nothing above a whisper as he gazed straight into his boyfriend’s own eyes, and Chanyeol could only swallow as the hidden, unspoken, and underlying message of Baekhyun’s own words made themselves apparent in his head; bright and blaring and  _ burning. _

_ I’m a  _ man.

_ I’m one of those  _ morbid animals _ your cousin spoke so carelessly about. _

_ … and I am  _ your boyfriend.

…

…

…

“... Two chances, Chanyeol,” a shaky inhale, a trembling exhale.

_ “... Two chances.” _

 

* * *

 

 

Usually after having been given such an ultimatum, people would be much more cautious and careful about whatever they would say or do thereafter, which was why Chanyeol’s sudden change in demeanour and attitude around him didn’t really faze Baekhyun. Silence had soon enough become their housemate; a constant source of company for both Baekhyun and Chanyeol whenever the two of them were home.

It was something that was initially quite difficult to get used to, on both of their parts. Four walls that once used to echo out choked laughs and gasping guffaws were now greeted with barely any sounds; the few sounds that still reverberate off of them being the closing of doors and the hissing of kettles.

Even the television was never on.

Gleaming tiles of marble were now seemingly covered thoroughly in eggshells; the familiarity that the two once had with the other vanishing, replaced by what can only be described as stifling,  _ suffocating _ unease,  _ fear. _

_ Fear. _

The fear that he’d lose the other, and the fear that this would be it.

The fear that he’d have to come out of hiding, and the fear that this was the beginning of the end.

The fear that he’d lose  _ Baekhyun, _ and the fear that he’d lose  _ Chanyeol. _

Both were valid; equally and just as understandably so. The heavy sense of dread had seemingly manifested itself into what can only be a dense block of lead, one that was pressing right on their hearts and lungs, growing with each and every minute. The weight was smothering; compressing their beating hearts and breathing lungs so much to the point where it hurt to  _ breathe _ whenever they were in the company of the other.

The fact that they still could bear to sleep in the same bed with the other had never surprised Baekhyun even more than it did then.

He had thought that it would have been enough; Baekhyun rightfully assuming that the chill of their house and the decaying of their relationship would have set Chanyeol off enough to wake up; to understand and truly realise what exactly the weight of his next actions was. He had thought that the tapering of their relationship; one that was once filled with constant, bright love had now turned to flinched touches and deafening silence, would have been enough.

…

…

…

… So he only had himself to blame.

He only had himself to blame; for setting such high expectations, for believing in what had only been  _ baseless _ assumptions and for  _ trusting _ the fact— no, the  _ thought _ that his ultimatum had meant more than Chanyeol’s own pride and cowardice.

… because what else was he supposed to feel, really? What else was he supposed to think, to feel, to  _ believe, _ when his  _ boyfriend _ had started on his dream; collaborating with his father and working together with his connections, taking them under his wing and kickstarting the project.

_ Kim Ha Eun’s Music Academy. _

… his boyfriend was working on a project; fulfilling his dream and getting it started, and yet it would be named after by someone who  _ didn’t even exist. _

“I thought that it’d make you happy— you’re going to finally have  _ your own academy—” _

_ “Ha Eun _ is the one who’s going to have  _ her  _ own fucking academy, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun had hissed; casting aside the heels and dumping the wine-stained blouse he pulled from his  _ purse _ into the laundry basket. He had stomped all the way through to their bedroom, all the whilst ripping off the god-forsaken and restricting stockings and skirt. The last thing that he took off was the shirt that he replaced his blouse with; the one that Mrs. Park pulled out of Chanyeol’s closet as soon as she registered the deep maroon splattered all over  _ Ha Eun’s _ white blouse.

That event had been a rather close call, Mrs. Park’s sharp eyes trailing over his entire frame as she evaluated what she should do. Her gaze had been nothing but scrutinising,  _ analysing, _ and Baekhyun had been so entirely worried that she would have found Ha Eun’s broad shoulders quite peculiar; something not entirely befitting of a  _ woman. _

However, when all that Baekhyun was responded with was Mrs. Park turning on her heels and hurriedly speeding off into the direction of  _ Chanyeol’s _ room, he could only stare, anxiously dumbfounded, as she hurried back with one of Chanyeol’s own dress shirts.

_ “You  _ are _ rather broad,” _ she had mumbled as she gently wrapped her fingers around Baekhyun’s own wrist, before coaxing him into the direction of the bathroom. A sudden rush of fear quickly coursed through his entire frame; freezing his blood and fraying his nerves, the blaring red message that  _ ‘She knows she knows she  _ knows’ flashing blindingly behind his eyelids.

But when Mrs. Park only followed it up with a warm,  _ “Oh, I’m sorry if that offended you, dear. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just in quite admirable shock; you’re very beautiful,” _ Baekhyun couldn’t help the slumping of his shoulders. Lungs rapidly compressing, the rush of breath that left his lips only brought about a series of fond chuckles from the Park matriarch, Mrs. Park gently goading Ha Eun to change with a gentle press of her palm against her back.

… but of course, the true weight of her words as well as all the little hints that they dropped hadn’t really processed right until Baekhyun was done changing into  _ Chanyeol’s _ own dress shirts; his eyes watching his own nimble fingers fiddling about with the cotton in the mirror.

_ ‘Beautiful’. _

…

…

…

_ ‘Kim Ha Eun was beautiful.’ _

‘Kim Ha Eun  _ was beautiful.’ _

…

…

…

… and Baekhyun never hated his own reflection; the image of  _ her, _ one that was concocted, drawn, and carved by pigments of pinks and shades of browns, one that was draped and accessorised in soft cotton and pearl earrings, one that was  _ brought to life _ at a request from one and the desperation of another.

_ Someone who didn’t even exist. _

Kim Ha Eun was someone who didn’t even exist, and yet was being showered in love and affection and care and concern by  _ every _ single Park family member; down from little Daehan to the ever so intimidating Park patriarch. Kim Ha Eun was someone who didn’t exist, and yet was being greeted with questions of her and Chanyeol’s history, all of which  _ he _ had the answers for, memorised and recited straight out of memory and the desperate hope that  _ ‘I’m doing this to keep Chanyeol to me’. _ Kim Ha Eun was someone who didn’t exist, and yet—

_ “Ah, Ha Eun-ah! I’ve gathered a few of my friends here today, the ones I was telling you about, and they’re all more than willing to help you kickstart your academy. If I’m not wrong, Chanyeol’s already started on it, hasn’t he?” _

—… yet  _ she _ was living his  _ dream. _

…

…

…

“I am  _ Byun Baekhyun,  _ Chanyeol,” Baekhyun had whispered; the scene not unlike the very one three months ago.

_ I am my own person. _

_ I am real. _

_ … and I exist. _

…

…

…

_ “... One last chance, Chanyeol,”  _ desperate,  _ begging. _

_ “... One last chance.” _

 

* * *

 

 

…

…

…

… but he should have known.

“Baekhyun— Baekhyun, wait,  _ please—” _

…

…

…

… He  _ really  _ should have known.

Abruptly turning around, Baekhyun only ripped off the hand that Chanyeol had clenched over the curve of his shoulder, his own (disgusting disgusting disgusting) manicured fingers digging into the soft flesh of the wrist before throwing it off. Trying his hardest to keep his vision clear, Baekhyun focused his attention controlling the muscles around his eyes; a desperate attempt to keep the dam from breaking.

The dam built from nothing else but the last remnants of dignity and self-respect, both of which had replaced the hope and trust that he once had for the man standing before him.

“What?! What could you  _ possibly  _ have left to say to me?!” Baekhyun yelled, voice strained and syllables growled. With his lips bitten back behind his teeth, Baekhyun only fixed Chanyeol with a glare; the anger and disbelief, the frustration and mistrust wreaking havoc in the blazing brunette. His gaze on Chanyeol hadn’t even lasted three seconds, his eyelids pushed to a close by the curling of his lips, before tilting his head back, shaking.

“... This was your last chance, Chanyeol…”

“I—I know, so Baekhyun— _please,_ _let me explain—”_

—… but he had been instantly been cut off, Baekhyun’s pointed head shake a signal loud enough to overpower and override each and every ounce of determination and desperation within him.

…

…

…

“...  _ What is there left to  _ explain, _ Chanyeol…?” _

It had been nothing more than a whisper, a statement carried in a tone lacking of any underlying messages, or any hidden meanings; straightforward, point-blank,  _ truth. _

It was obvious, wasn’t it?

All of it.

… because what else does Chanyeol have left to explain to Baekhyun, when everything had been  _ so perfectly _ crystal clear from the very start?

… why else would Chanyeol have even asked  _ him, _ asked Byun Baekhyun, his  _ boyfriend  _ of  _ three years,  _ to crossdress in order to meet his family? Why else would Chanyeol, a son nearing his thirties and the heir to his parents’ famous and renowned billionaire empire, ask his loyal and faithful partner to accompany him to his family dinner all those months back, presenting as someone of the opposite gender, of someone who was  _ not _ a fellow man? 

Why else would Chanyeol, an influential and acclaimed businessman, deny any claims of being a homosexual, even in the face of his very own homosexual  _ partner? _ Why else would Chanyeol have gone ahead with his father’s merely mentioned, fleeting plan; taking the time and effort out of his day to meet up with the acclaimed connections and put together a plan, a  _ project, _ to make his non-existent  _ girlfriend’s _ “dream”, a reality?

… and why else would Chanyeol, someone given the  _ extreme _ ultimatum,  _ still not change? _

“... You value your pride and family name over me, Chanyeol…”

“... You value their ignorance, their opinions, their influence,” Baekhyun continued, tone shaky and breath choppy. The words that were spilling past his lips had been adamant on going  _ heard, _ on being spoken and yelled and  _ screamed, _ because—

—because Baekhyun was  _ tired _ of staying quiet, of keeping his silence.

… and it isn’t like as though he’d be talking much to Chanyeol anyway, after today.

…

…

…

“... I hope you find someone in time for the  _ spring wedding,  _ Chanyeol.”

“... because I  _ sure as hell _ won’t be there.”

… and he left.

Spun on his cream heels and elegant gown,  _ Ha Eun _ left the scene, leaving behind the still very much suited Chanyeol at the entrance to the reception hall, the picture-perfect image of an upset brides _ maid _ and a lost grooms _ man. _

_ ‘One step away from marriage, huh?’ _

Baekhyun only scoffed, because—

_ ‘... Not anymore.’ _

_ … not after  _ Baekhyun  _ left  _ Chanyeol.

…

…

…

_ Zero chances, Chanyeol. _

_ Zero chances. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end for this chapter!
> 
> It's quite saddening, honestly, to see just what has happened of the two of them; both Chanyeol and Baekhyun as individuals. It's sad what Chanyeol did to Baekhyun, because honestly Baekhyun doesn't deserve any of that. However, I hope that the reasons for Chanyeol asking Baekhyun are clearer now, because as what Baekhyun said, Chanyeol values his family, reputation, business, and everything else above Baekhyun. It's just unfortunate that Baekhyun ended up in the middle of all this.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and I would really like to know your opinions and thoughts about this chapter, and what Chanyeol did to Baekhyun! I also appreciate any constructive criticism, especially on the writing style for this chapter! I've been experimenting with it and want to know how it's being received! :) Thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the final chapter! It'll be posted next week, Sunday, KST! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of A Coward's Mistress, and I honestly struggled a lot with writing this chapter. I would say more but I don't wish to spoil you guys, so I'll just say whatever else I wanna say in the bottom author's notes!! If you have come this far, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading this fic! :)

He tried to leave.

Packed the bare necessities into his luggage and the other, more breakable, more sentimental items into cushioned cardboard boxes before booking the next available flight to Osaka.

It was a decision that Baekhyun felt like he didn’t have to think twice before making, before finalising; even seemed like the only option he had left at that time. Safe to say, it  _ had _ been a decision that he didn’t even think twice about, Baekhyun never once hesitating in his packing of his clothes and covers, mind only focusing on the direction that the words  _ ‘Get out get out get out’ _ gave him.

Chanyeol had come running to him, of course. His boyfriend of nearly  _ four years _ now scampering up behind him a rushed 20 or so minutes later, the conglomerate heir needing to retain face and maintain his reputation as he bid his ‘Goodbye’s to each and every notable person at his cousin’s wedding. With there being a little over two hundred guests, with more than three-fourths of them a valuable connection, a notable asset, it honestly surprised Baekhyun that it took Chanyeol  _ only _ 20 minutes.

After all, it was always Chanyeol’s mantra to give  _ important persons the time of day. _

… a list that Baekhyun had come to realise, rather sorely and rather belatedly, that he wasn’t a member of.

… because in Park Chanyeol— only son of the regal Park Family, the future patriarch and heir to the internationally recognised and acclaimed Park Enterprises— in  _ that _ Park Chanyeol’s list—

… the person  _ Byun Baekhyun _ didn’t exist… remember?

Only Kim Ha Eun.

… and it was with this thought, this heavy realisation, the deep setting in of this  _ fact _ in his very being, was Baekhyun able to pack his things. It was this acknowledgement that, in the grand scheme of things,  _ Byun Baekhyun did not exist, _ that spurred him on to hastily throw off the  _ disgusting _ brown wig, to fiercely rip off the  _ disgusting _ acrylics, to viciously tear off the  _ disgusting _ gown from his body—

… and to quietly, almost _mutely,_ _cry._

…

…

…

He remembers how it had all played out. He remembers what had transpired, what had taken place that very night in the their— no, in  _ his _ apartment.

He remembers how his vision had been blurry; his mascara-lined lashes and liner-swiped water lines only aiding in shadowing the damp veils draped over his eyes. He remembers how he hadn’t been able to hear anything; ears still very much weighed down by the little droplets of diamond, ringing in the quietness of the apartment, one broken only by his own choked sobs and thundering of his heart. He remembers how he hadn’t been able to  _ breathe; _ throat clamped and lungs seized, air refusing to be taken in and desperate to be let out.

He remembers having been so entirely focused on finding boxes; pulling out each and every unmade box from whatever crevice they ended up in. He remembers his trembling arms and shaking fingers working to give each piece of lifeless cardboard a shape, remembers his quivering lips curling behind his teeth as he tore apart pieces of tape. He remembers his wobbly legs and and hunching back, slumping into doorways and slamming into walls as he desperately began his search for all of his things.

_ His _ things.

_ His _ clothes,  _ his _ covers,  _ his _ mugs,  _ his _ albums,  _ his _ frames,  _ his _ cushions—

Not  _ theirs, _ but  _ his. _

Not  _ hers, _ but  _ his. _

… because as far as Baekhyun was concerned, as far as  _ Byun Baekhyun, _ the  _ person  _ who has lived, who has existed for 26 years, the  _ man _ who has loved for 4 years—

There was no longer an  _ “us”, _ and there was no longer a  _ “her”. _

… there was only a  _ Byun Baekhyun,  _ and a  _ Byun Baekhyun only. _

…

…

…

_ “... Please leave your keys by the table, Chanyeol.” _

_... Goodbye. _

 

* * *

 

 

He tried to live.

Japanese had been a language he had previously learnt, a language that he was rather fluent in. A culture and lifestyle that he not only vocally adapted to, but physically and emotionally as well, finally putting all those years of hard work into good use as he finally had the chance to truly throw himself into the country and all that it provided.

Living in Japan had always been one of the things in his bucket list, something Baekhyun knew he had put on there ever since he was still in his single-digit years. It had been bumped up the list ever since he had gotten attached too, the need to fulfill this wish heightening once he found out he shared the same wish as  _ him _ all those years ago.

… Who would have thought he’d get to cross it out so soon.

…  _ Alone…  _ this time.

Without  _ him. _

Baekhyun couldn’t help but laugh then, lips curling up around a rather resigned, forlorn chuckle as he processed just what had transpired, as he processed his reality. 

He remembers the dream, the wish. He remembers how excited the two of them had been, all bright smiles and brighter laughs as they reveled in their enthusiasm and anticipation. He remembers just how happy he had felt, how happy  _ they _ had felt, bouncing on the soles of their feet just a little over three and a half years ago; when they were young, and their love, even  _ younger. _

He remembers their rambling, the rattling of ideas and wants, the babbling of wishes and needs. He remembers how easily their conversation had gone, remembers how seamlessly it had seemed back then;  _ “let’s go to Japan one day, we’ll go to each and every prefecture and spend a week there, do everything worth doing there”.  _ He remembers the brief periods of time when they both had nothing else to do, had time to kill; going onto travel sites and browsing tour packages, searching up the best spots and the best times to visit each and every town, each and every district. He remembers the list that they had planned, the one they both contributed to; remembers the diligent thought and meticulous effort they put into the little notebook,  _ “A Year In Japan”. _

He remembers.

… because he brought the notebook along with him.

It had been an afterthought, a last-minute decision to bring along the worn Moleskine. The weathered leather had been peeking out from the bottom of his bookshelf, the aged cover a true betrayal of the book’s age. The book was only a little more than three and a quarter years’ old, the gifting of it to him marking the same exact day that  _ he _ had said his first  _ “I love you”. _

Baekhyun remembers that day very well too, remembers how he had been perched on the couch, in nothing but his sweatpants and oversized hoodie. He remembers munching on a packet of chips, the crunching of the crisp, salt-flaked potatoes flowing in tandem with the sound of gunfire and screams blaring from the TV speakers. He remembers reaching behind him every few seconds, every few bites, raising his arm to feed  _ him _ a few chips every now and then.

… and he remembers how he had been perched on  _ his _ chest, crumpled cotton clad back pressed against  _ his _ neat, pressed, and nylon draped chest. He remembers feeling  _ his _ arms wrapped around his waist, the sleeves of the dress shirt rolled up expertly to his elbows, able to feel the warmth from  _ his _ skin through the thick cotton and onto his own. He remembers registering the positioning of  _ his _ arms then, remembers how  _ he _ had pressed the wrist of  _ his _ right hand into his tummy.

… and he remembers the way  _ his  _ pulse beat against his abdomen, remembers the way  _ his _ heart beat against his back. He remembers how fidgety  _ he _ had been, how his fingers twisted and played and fiddled with the hem of his hoodie then. He remembers how breathy, how distracted  _ he _ had been that night; eyebrows furrowed and eyes dazed, seemingly in a trance, distracted.

… and he remembers the quiet, almost muted little whisper. He remembers the low, gritty timbre that curled around the three syllables, and eventually the five ones. He remembers hearing the anxiety, the almost desperation, the  _ resolution _ in which those words had been whispered.

_ “... I love you.” _

_ “... I really love you.” _

… which was why he hadn’t hesitated, his own breath hitching and his own eyes watering as his lungs seized and his heart palpitated in his chest. He hadn’t hesitated when  _ he _ had presented the little notebook, arms reaching around Baekhyun before diving into the little bag, fingers curling tight around the sealed leather-bound book and voice curled tight around  _ his _ words.

_ “... and I want to be with you.” _

_ “... Wholly, completely, and truly.” _

_ “... Away from here.” _

He hadn’t picked up on it then, hadn’t really put two and two together, didn’t really dig too deep into what  _ he _ had meant and what hidden meanings and unsaid messages laid beneath those words. Baekhyun had only chalked it up to their literal meanings;  _ him _ reinstating their dream,  _ him _ wanting them to travel and see their favourite country together, away from the hustle and bustle that was Seoul and South Korea, away from the pressure and stress that came with being an heir and being in a relationship with a man who spent more time at the office than he did with his lover.

He hadn’t noticed it then, but there had been desperation in his eyes; an almost silent plead in the way  _ he _ had looked at him, in the way  _ he _ had spoken to him. There had been a muted beg; a cry for understanding, hopeful and wanting,  _ needing. _

… As if he already knew.

As if he had already resigned himself, already long come to accept the fact that—

—…  _ that they wouldn’t be able to stay together here. _

… but he hadn’t noticed.

… which was why he hadn’t understood, brows raising a little bit of wonder and in a lot of confusion when  _ Chanyeol _ had relaxed; relief and genuine happiness surging through his veins, screaming in the way his shoulders slumped and his lips stretched when Baekhyun had only nodded his ahead,  _ agreeing. _ He hadn’t understood why Chanyeol had seemed so overjoyed, the childlike innocent of toddlers being promised what they always,  _ always _ wanted seeping into each and every nook and cranny about his face, lining his features. 

… and he hadn’t understood the elation, the eased bliss behind his words.

_ “Let’s live there, Baekhyun-ah,” _ he remembers Chanyeol whispering, features soft and voice even softer.  _ “... Let’s live in Japan.” _

_ “... Just you and me.” _

 

* * *

 

 

He tried to love.

Kei had been his name.

A man with talent laced into each and every fiber of his being, the tips of his fingers able to work magic with each and every instrument they had hanging off the walls in the little Academy right along the outskirts of Osaka. A man able to work wonders with his smiles and laughs, lips switching much more seamlessly between the two tongues as compared to Baekhyun, the ease in which he spoke both Korean and Japanese helping to relieve the tension in Baekhyun’s shoulders and melt away the fear in his heart.

He had been Baekhyun’s first ever friend, the only person who could pick through his accented Japanese and meet Baekhyun in the middle, compromising and speaking in a mother tongue that was not his own. Kei had only smiled at brief surprise that splattered itself all over Baekhyun’s face as soon as the Korean syllables spilled out, before beginning to chuckle once he caught sight of just how far Baekhyun’s shoulders had dropped as he released a sigh;  _ relieved. _

_ “Oh my God thank goodness I found you,” _ Baekhyun remembers himself sighing out; the pure and utter relief obvious in his tone. He would have thought that he was being quite dramatic, putting up what could be considered a theatrical act just over finding someone who spoke the same language as him, right in the middle of a grocery store aisle no less. However, his relief far surpassed his inhibition, and it didn’t take long for the two of them to be acquainted.

Baekhyun doesn’t know when or how or why it happened, but did. It must have happened somewhere along the way of them exchanging numbers, of them meeting over coffees and lunches. It must have happened somewhere between Kei introducing him to the Academy he worked at and landing him a spot there; the words of  _ “We needed a vocal trainer” _ opening new doors and meeting new faces on Baekhyun’s behalf. It must have happened somewhere along the way of them getting dinners together with their colleagues, before eventually having dinners together; just the two of them, and the two of them only.

It must have happened somewhere between them hanging out during the weekends at shopping malls and billiard rooms, at karaoke bars and  _ Izakaya. _ It must have happened somewhere between them hanging out in the vocal and music rooms well after the days’ lessons have ended, and them going over to each other’s houses for company.

… and it must have happened somewhere between them staying over for the nights, and never leaving the next morning.

… and Baekhyun…

… Baekhyun thought that finally,  _ finally— _

—… he must have found a  _ home. _

…

…

…

… until he realised he  _ hadn’t. _

… and Kei did too.

 

 

 

“You  _ are home to  _ me, _ Baekhyun-ah,” _ he remembers Kei whispering, voice all knotted and strained, eyes all misty and wet. He remembers how hard, how  _ tight _ his then boyfriend, boyfriend of  _ almost a year, _ had gripped onto his shoulders; palms pushing against the thick wool and fingers squeezing the warm flesh. He remembers how shaky his smile had been, the usually soft pink trembling in tandem with his crumpling chin, flesh turned pale and breaths shaky, and his voice even more so as he whispered out the final few syllables.

_ “... But  _ I’m  _ not home to  _ you.”

… and Baekhyun hated it.

He hated it; had tried so hard to hold Kei back, to clear his own vision from the own wetness, his mind from the image of the packed bags and zipped up luggage. He remembers gripping onto Kei’s hands, his own palms curling tight and fingers digging deep into the skin of his hands,  _ desperate _ as he argued.

_ “That’s— That’s  _ not _ true, Kei—” _ Baekhyun remembers crying out, his own tone mirroring that of Kei’s in resolution. However, Kei had only smiled a little wider; lips working through the ferocious and unrelenting trembles to tug up at the corners, the need to comfort Baekhyun overriding the need to comfort himself.

… because it didn’t matter if he himself was hurting, it didn’t matter if he himself was crying, it didn’t matter if he himself was in pain.

… as long as Baekhyun’s eyes remained dry and Baekhyun’s smile remained wide.

… as long as Baekhyun was happy.

_ “He may not deserve a second chance after what he did to you, Baekhyun-ah,” _ he remembers Kei mumbling, voice strained in an attempt to set aside the hurt and the pain, the need to be firm and stern taking precedence as he continued.

_ “... but  _ you _ deserve a second chance at being loved the way you deserve, and the way you  _ want.

_ “... and we both know that  _ I’m _ not the man for that.” _

It was totally messed up. Completely, wholly, and utterly fucked up. Baekhyun knew just how ridiculous the situation was, and he knew that Kei was aware of it too.

… because whatever Kei had said, whatever he had implied, whatever he had insinuated—

—… had been  _ true. _

… Kei… 

… Kei wasn’t the man for him.

Baekhyun didn’t know when he had started to realise that; didn’t know exactly when the image and smell of the perfect home, of  _ his _ perfect home started to change, to distort. He didn’t know exactly when the sight of Kei’s arms and the scent of his cologne shifted from becoming familiar,  _ right,  _ to something foreign,  _ wrong. _

It must have happened somewhere between how Kei’s touches and holds started to feel foreign; when the pads of his fingers and the calluses on his palms scratched rather than soothed, when the wrapping of his arms and the tangling of his legs restrained rather than released, when the hard press of lips hurt rather than healed.

It must have happened somewhere between how Kei’s voice had started to feel alien, when it started getting  _ blocked out _ ; when the deep tenor had started to become thunder rather than the quiet of the deep sea, when the characteristic grittiness had started to become scratches on chalkboards rather than the rumbling of distant clouds, when the volume started to become a booming command rather than an invite to home.

It must have happened somewhere between how Kei’s gaze started to feel different, when his eyes became shutters rather than open windows, when the brows of his orbs became a dull shadow rather than a bright light, when his eyes became a sight that Baekhyun had to  _ work _ for, rather than one that was granted willingly.

… for Kei hadn’t wanted to meet his own.

_ “Your eyes tell everything, Baekhyun-ah,” _ he remembers Kei mumbling, words spilling past trembling lips and syllables choked around a sob. He remembers the resigned sigh, the accepting dimming of the browns of his eyes, a sight that Baekhyun hadn’t been able to catch successfully, easily, for the past week or so. He remembers the shaky smile, one obvious in its desperate attempt at giving comfort, but futile in its attempt of hiding pain. 

_ “... they tell me that you  _ love  _ me,”  _ a chuckle, a sigh.

_ “... but they yell that you’re  _ in love _ with  _ him.”

…

…

…

… Which was why, just over eight months later, when Baekhyun had been walking through the streets of a town just along the outskirts of Osaka, Japan…

He had stopped.

Feet halting against the pavement, palm tightening around the newspaper in his right and fingers digging into the flyer in his left, Baekhyun could only breathe; inhales shaky and exhales unsteady as he ever so slowly, ever so steadily, brought his gaze up along the block of concrete in front of him.

_ ‘04 MUSIC’. _

…

…

…

The sound of the chime rattling against the door frame, the trinket of a bell dangling in the air amidst the cheerful clinking of metal against metal,  _ instantly _ prompting Baekhyun’s own eyes to drop back down from the logo perched right along the top of the storefront, to instead meet with another one’s eyes—

—… eyes he hadn’t seen in exactly 20 months.

The sight of those brown orbs, the sight of those very same orbs that he fell in love with  _ all those years ago, _ had been all it took for Baekhyun to empty his hands completely; palms releasing themselves of the pulp and the plastic—

—… to instead hold something much more smoother, more softer; his own padded fingers and smooth palms meeting rougher and callused ones.

… ones that felt like  _ home. _

…

…

…

“... Welcome, Baekhyun.”

_ … Welcome  _ home.

 

 

 

_ ‘Breaking news! Park Enterprise heir, Park Chanyeol, has fled South Korea after what is rumoured to be a familial row and cutting of ties. Insider news report the Park patriarch himself disowning his son after the heir came out as homosexual, shortly after hastily calling off the engagement to renowned model and the heir to Choi International, Choi Ji Eun!’ _

 

_ ‘The grand opening of  _ ‘04 MUSIC’  _ Music Academy, looking for experienced vocal trainers, pianists, guitarists, and drummers willing to teach!’ _

 

 

 

… and maybe…

_ ‘... Maybe  _ this  _ is home.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! I'm really sorry if the ending wasn't satisfactory, I truly struggled with this chapter because I wasn't quite sure how to truly express how Baekhyun would go back to Chanyeol. However, essentially what happened is that Baekhyun did try to find love, but no one compared to Chanyeol. Baekhyun always compared his lovers to Chanyeol and they always fell short, and he hated that fact about him. He tried to love others but his heart was rather (at that time) unfortunately taken by Chanyeol.
> 
> Yet what made him decide to give them another chance, what made him decide to go back to Chanyeol is how Chanyeol finally came out of the closet to his family. He finally decided to take the step and he gave up everything (as mentioned in the previous chapter) to come out. What took him so long was because he wanted to still give Baekhyun his Music Academy. So he worked to build and establish that in Japan before he finally decided to say "fuck it" and leave Korea completely; cutting ties and all that.
> 
> ARGH I don't know what else to say but I guess that's pretty much it!! Please do tell me your thoughts and opinions down in the comments below, I'm really interested in what you guys have to say about the ending, and how you guys feel about it!! I also appreciate any form of criticism, so if you find any area in which I can improve in, please do leave it down in the comments below! :)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading! This was a "genre" that I never personally delved in before, so it was a challenge for me! But I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it too! :) I'm also on twitter, [@zkxxdlin](https://twitter.com/zkxxdlin) , if you would like to personally tell me your thoughts on this fic! :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for reading, and see you in the next story! :)


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